


i think it's worth it (not really).

by angaria



Series: war is unjustified [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Dead Wilbur Soot, Everyone Needs A Hug, F, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Ghostbur, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I mean not really phil is mentioned once techno isnt even at all but i like lying to myself, No Happy Ending Fest, Sad, So much guilt, Tommy needs a hug, War, Wilbur Soot-centric, Wilbur is dead, eh nevermind, idk how to do tags, lol, no beta we die like dream in a minecart, sad tommyinnit, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, tagstagstagstags, tommyinnit angst, will someone give this kid a break please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angaria/pseuds/angaria
Summary: “Is war justified?”Wilbur has only heard this question and its synonyms three times in his life, all asked by Tommy.The first, before everything.The second in the middle of it all.The third at the end, when he is long dead and gone.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: war is unjustified [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989346
Comments: 1
Kudos: 107





	i think it's worth it (not really).

**Author's Note:**

> helloooooo it's me again delivering freshly made angst for ya'll :DDD
> 
> the usual disclaimer, you know the drill:
> 
> this is all for fun, and in honour of the dream smp, this is in no way a correct or definite portrayal of wilbur or to, whether it be persona or real life :) it's just writing and fiction based off the events occuring in the smp :D
> 
> hope you enjoy the fic, and please leave some kudos/feedback if you wish :)

“Is war justified?”

“That’s some big words you’re using there, Toms.”

“I know. That’s why I’m using them,” he beams, and asks again.

Wilbur looks down, and there’s a tuft of blonde hair below him, lanky arms poking is torso, blue eyes peering up hopefully. L’manburg had just gained independence, and Tommy couldn’t have been older than that of fifteen or sixteen. Eyes blue, wide and sparkling, he pokes the pale brown cloth of the elder before he finally gives in and answers. 

“Ask me that question again when you’re older, Tommy, and then maybe I’ll give you a better answer.”

A pout and a whine follows, but the question is soon dropped, and Wilbur is left to ponder, staring at the woolen flag perched on top of obsidian walls. The time will come when Tommy will understand, truly grasp the true and utter meaning of war, but until then- will Wilbur let him live in a fantasy? One where war is merely a harmless event in a playbook, a plot point for modern poets and english teachers to gawk at once the author is long dead? Tommy doesn't know that, and Wilbur is a failure for not telling him, but it’s the best he can do.

Brown eyes gaze upon blue black walls and woolen structures, camarvans and books and they sparkle.

* * *

The second time Wilbur hears that question again, Tommy is older. Eyes duller but still blue, blonde hair messy and stained with soot and streaks of red. A porcelain mask disappears behind obsidian walls as they burst into flames around him, a wooden structure with all his prized memories collapsed into pools of water in front of him. Tommy’s eyes are fixated on the woolen flag, one of the only structures left unscathed in the crossfire. Jaw tightened, teeth clenched, arm gripping the other to stop bleeding. His eyes had hardened into that of cold steel, and small cuts and scrapes littered his face. Wilbur would have been scared if not for the constant ringing in his ears, and the black dots still scattering his vision.

‘Will, is war worth it? He asks again, but not out of curiosity. It’s almost like a whisper, and he strains to hear it. Tommy is older and he has been through more, and Wilbur should be ready to tell him, if not for dizziness and his almost inability to stand straight, but it's then that he starts to question it as well.

He looks at the burning walls around him, the water below him swirling with red and brown, members of his nation stumbling back underground. How far would he be willing to go? How far when enough is enough? How far when he’s eventually traumatised everyone in the entire nation, and they all snap?

Tommy answers the question for himself, and it seems like self-confidence from the outside, but he’s known Tommy for long enough to know that he puts up a damn good front.

He’s scared. TommyInnit is scared. TommyInnit is scared, and he’s 16, and he's getting into things that he shouldn't be- and Wilbur _knows_ that. He knows that he’s making children suffer - that war decays, but yet, the call of glory is too much, and he gives in.

“I mean, we-we’re fighting for L’manburg, so of course it means something right?”

His voice is almost desperate, pleading, hope held high only by two thin strings that look ready to snap at any minute.

Wilbur is too tired to answer, opting to leave the question hanging in the air instead. Tommy sucks in a breath through his teeth, shoves his hand in an ender chest to pull out two discs, and storms off.

Wilbur looks on longingly at the darkened sky.

* * *

The third and last time he hears it, he’s already long gone and dead.

He knows that. He can’t exactly remember why, though.

Vague bursts of memories replace vivid structures that built high in his mind. Neurons severed like connections, he reaches out to give dye to those he feels attached to, and doesn’t understand why they turn away so quickly.

Pleads and a knife is all he remembers from his last moments. He remembers his father there. He remembers a shout, him begging for- _something_ that arrived on a silver platter handed to him by iron. His vision goes white, and he blanks out.

It’s night when he hears quiet sobbing.

He doesn’t sleep much- so naturally, he decided to follow it. It sounded familiar- and he didn’t know why.

It was a chilly night, with wind blowing from every direction, the stars brighter than ever, he follows the figure. It stops at a ravine, as if almost contemplating to go down. Wilbur stands near him, still sort-of hidden, but visible enough that the figure could see him if he wanted to.

It doesn’t turn- and Wilbur can’t tell if it’s because it didn’t notice, or it didn't want to.

It continues on, and soon he finds himself walking on the Prime Path, splinters digging into his bare feet as he trudged on, narrowingly avoiding ditches made by creepers.

It’s only when the figure stops to rest at a bench on the hill- that he finally sees who it is.

The soft yellow lamp above the trees only illuminates his defined features more, and casts an unwanted ominous ambience between the two.

The figure is all blonde hair, blue eyes, matted into some semblance of a neat hairstyle, eyebags prominent with tears streaking down his face.

It’s Tommy.

Wilbur almost reaches out to touch him, but something compelled him against it, he instead opting to stay in his relatively hidden position beside a lampost.

He swallows, ignoring the rising feeling of nausea in his stomach, and the unfamiliar emotion of guilt as he watches the young boy bawl.

Once it reaches the five-minute mark, he turns on his heels to walk away, eyes pressed together, breath slowed and laborious as he tries to stop tears of his own. He almost takes a step before a raspy voice catches his attention.

_“Wilbur.”_

He freezes. Taking a breath, he turns, but Tommy isn’t looking at him. He’s on the bench, knees pulled up to his chest, hands clasped together and he’s looking at the stars, as if he’s making a prayer.

“Wilbur,” raspy and cold and calculating, it doesn’t sound like the Tommy he knew.

_(Maybe it isn’t.)_

“Wilbur, I don't even know if you can hear me- you’re dead. You’re dead and there’s so many things I still need to do. You promised you wouldn't leave- and you _left_ ,” he unsuccessfully dries his eyes and takes a breath.

“You left me and Tubbo, and Fundy and Big Q, and you left us like- like _this_! Are you proud? Are you happy? Were we that much of a burden to you?” He’s sobbing at this point, screaming at the sky when the man responsible is behind him, gripping the lamppost with as much force as he can muster, a hand clasped over his mouth to stop whimpers from escaping. Tears pool in the elder’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall.

“ _Was it worth it?”_

He hears that question- and _utterly shatters_.

He doesn’t even know what set him off- he doesn’t understand, doesn’t remember, but soon he finds himself sinking to the floor, sobbing as he tries and fails to stop glistening tears from rolling down his cheeks. Tommy doesn’t hear him, drowned out by the noise of his own cries.

He cries with him under the faint sunrise, and together they come to the unspoken conclusion that _no, it wasn’t_.

The stars bring him no comfort, in fact they only make him sadder - for he remembered a boy whose eyes used to shine much brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> well this was certainly a journey to write!! i wasn't too pleased at it at the start but i guess it kinda cleaned itself up towards the end. :)) i wrote this over a span of two days, both at either 1 or 3 am, so if midpoint you can tell that my flow just suddenly stopped- shhhhhhhhh ;)
> 
> i'm not too sure what analysis to do for this story, because it's an open and shut case- the three times wilbur has heard tommy ask the question, but it's definietly open to intepretation if you want! i just wanted to portray the guilt and loneliness wilbur still carries with him even if he doesn't remember, wanted to sprinkle in some tommy angst as well, and make a reference to the title of the series.
> 
> this fic and my writing can most definetly be improved in so many ways, so if you have any feedback or if you enjoyed the fic, please leave a comment or a kudo :) it would be much appreciated!
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i liked writing it :)


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